Point of Obsession: Chas' POV
by Miss Kass
Summary: Chas loves John, but has his reluctance to tell him ruined their friendship, or even their lives? This is Chastine, which means slash, so don't read it if you don't like it.


**Summary: **Chas loves John, but has his reluctance to tell him ruined their friendship, or even their lives?

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Keanu Reeves (sob) or Shia LaBeouf. I also don't own the original Point of Obsession, which was written by the fabulous author Lady Sapphire Kym.

**Author: **Miss Kass

**Note: **Like I previously mentioned, I don't own the original Point of Obsession. It was written by the fantastic goddess of all that is Chastine-y, Lady Sapphire Kym. You should go read some of her writing sometime!

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I found you intoxicating.

During the day I would pester you with questions, especially about exorcisms, simply to see your beautiful lips swear at me, and explain how I wasn't experienced enough to go.

John, did you ever catch on to how much I loved you? When I lay on your couch, knowing full well that most of the day you simply sat there, drinking and smoking away your health. I was always reminding you about how bad that was for you, but you simply cursed in another language and asked me why I can never stop talking.

Sometimes during the night I dreamt of you creeping over me, playing with my irritating hair and tracing my jaw line with your weathered fingers, your rough hands that I would stare at during the day, at times when you were busy doing what you did best.

I was happy when I was in your presence, though I tried not to show it. I simply buried myself in a musty old book about Papa Midnite, or famous exorcists.

One night, you placed a glass of whiskey by my side as I read, and I looked up quizzically at you, you knew I didn't drink. Your face revealed nothing however, as and you went back to drinking straight from the bottle, and chain smoking as you do, I took a small sip from the glass, coughing at the sharp taste of the liquid spilling down my throat. As I glanced over at you to make sure you were still not watching, I took a longer sip, coughing and spluttering, whiskey flowing in small rivulets onto my shirt and pants.

Throughout the night I found that there always seemed to be a full glass of whiskey next to me, and my vision began to blur until finally I staggered over to the couch and fell into a deep slumber, nothing could wake me whilst I was sleeping.

However, that night I felt something brushing against me every few moments, it especially seemed to be touching my face. As the touches seemed to grow fiercer, I called out to you, and the touches and scrapes stopped. I heard a pattering of feet and assumed you had deported the demon trying to attack me while I slept, so I simply turned over and fell asleep again.

The next morning I awoke and you seemed to be in an angrier mood than ever, so I stayed away and didn't mention anything of the night before to you, hoping that this would keep you from cursing at me, and hopefully make you happier. I couldn't stand seeing you angry, or depressed.

I realised that from that night onwards, you always seemed to supply me with whiskey, keeping me drunk, always drunk, and as I stagged to the couch I always wondered why you did it. Always the morning after I would never remember anything of my thoughts the night before, my hangover kept me occupied.

Unfortunately, during the day you always seemed to be angry. Whenever I spoke you would silence me with an evil glare, or with a barrage of curses in another language you assumed I couldn't understand.

This all eventually built up to another night, a night where you seemed to be happy, a night where you sat and drank with me instead of simply smoking or watching me from afar. As I drank the intoxicating fluid in one shot, a strange feeling came over me, and I felt woozy.

I asked you why I felt the way I did and you simply told me that the alcohol must have been going to my head. I shook my addled brain, thinking that was absurd, and went for the whiskey bottle, eager to prove that I could drink as much as you.

We both reached for the bottle at the same time, and as our hands gently brushed together, a spark seemed to travel between them, and I looked into your deep brown eyes. I allowed you to have the bottle, as I needed a moment to think about what I was going to do.

As I gathered my courage, I looked you over, muttering to myself softly about how much I wanted to be held by you, how strongly I felt for you. You looked confused as I continued to stare at you, and I understood why, but I thought of something that could overcome the confusion, and make a pact between us.

I gently shuffled off my chair onto your lap and continued looking into your eyes. I ruffled your hair and pulled your mouth towards mine, interlocking in a kiss. Kissing you was like kissing an ashtray, but I didn't care, I loved you, and that was all that mattered.

It seemed as though the kiss lasted a lifetime, though it was simply a few moments before I pulled away from you. You looked content, as was I, or maybe it was simply the drink taking effect. I gave you one last glance before I whispered 'thank you'.

I knew you wouldn't understand, your mind worked like that John, but as I was about to explain what I meant by my final words, pain seemingly crushed my body, and I coughed as my heart convulsed. Blood ran from the corners of my mouth, splattering over the cold floor before I fell limply into your arms, eyes closed, caught up in death's embrace.

Somehow I opened my eyes again, and realised I was no longer in your arms, or even in your apartment. I was in Heaven. As I looked around me, my body aching, all I could see was white, and a small group of angels coming towards me, each oddly similar to Gabriel.

I spoke to them, and asked them how I had died. They explain to me in harsh tones that you had killed me. For a moment I didn't believe them, before I ran the night's events over in my mind. You had given me whiskey that night, as like any other, but the strange wooziness that overcame my body was different, you had added something so I would never awake.

When I asked them why you had killed me, most of them pursed their lips and frowned at each other until an old angel came to the front of the group and explained that you had wanted to take me for yourself. You didn't have the courage to love me whilst I was awake, so you sent me into an everlasting slumber, I would never awaken and you would get your dream.

I sank to the ground as I realised it was true; you, my mentor, my one true love, had killed me over an obsession. Damn you Constantine. I had told you how much I loved you, but you had to back away from your emotions, and simply live with me in death instead of staying with me in life.

Like I said, I found you intoxicating, but why couldn't you drop the façade and simply show me the true you, the you that wasn't hidden behind your tough exorcist exterior, the you that loved me.


End file.
